Magic

Magic is good

When I was little things seems so simple and true
to play in the woods it was just me and you.
We would climb over trees and make camps in their arms
and never would we come to any such harm.
But days they got longer and you grew up fast
and days we spent playing they never did last.
You preferred being an adult and doing your hair
and being a friend you had now no such care.
I carried on playing in the woods on my own
the trees were my friends they gave me a new home.
I met pixies and sprites in my times in those woods
and the old father oak shielded me with his hood.
I saw dragons and dryads in the form of the trees
and their faces were kind and never did tease.
You did laugh at my stories saying oh please grow now
you can’t believe in magic, you should now take a bow.
Just leave it behind you for the world has no place
for the stories of fairies, you would laugh in my face.
I did grow up slowly but still believed in my kin
we were never close friends, I would never now win.
We drifted apart and I stayed on my own
still to wander in woods, when I got home.
I now am an adult gone now forty years
and that magic has helped me to combat my fears
I still now see fairies and dryads in the woods
the old oak still shields me with his hood.
They help me to say what I now say to you
that with the passion of magic will always stay true.
For religions and faith still live in some fantasy
but if it can help, live your life being free.